We Are Young
by Lexiconish
Summary: Loosely based on Mulan. When Kurt's father is summoned to war, Kurt cannot bear to lose him and takes his place. In a world even more cruel than the one he came from, his only comfort is one Blaine Anderson. Klaine, Finchel, Furt bros, Anderberry sibs.


_We Are Young__  
>Written by Lexiconish<br>Brought to you by the power of the Internet  
>Warnings for slash and violence<br>Multiple shippings, mostly Klaine  
><em> 

"_We are young,  
>But we have heart,<br>Born in this world as it all falls apart,  
>We are strong,<br>We don't belong,  
>Born in this world as it all falls apart" – 'Young' by Hollywood Undead<em>

___Chapter One_

It was mid-winter and the ice in the air could be felt with every shuddering breath. A young man trudged through grimy snow, shivering in his thin sweater. _'I knew I should have worn my other one,'_ he thought to himself, but it hadn't been this bad that morning.

Kurt Hummel wasn't especially well-off. If he were, he knew most of his money would be spent on a more appealing wardrobe. He and his father had enough to get by each day, and they were a respected family in the town, but that was probably because Kurt hadn't faced his Introspection yet. This ceremony was undertaken by every man and woman in the country at the age of seventeen. Sometimes the results were below average and the Introspection would be put off until they were on the cusp of eighteen, but most people did it on their seventeenth birthday. Kurt would be seventeen in a few weeks and he dreaded it.

He shoved the door of his house open and called out to announce his return home. His father, Burt Hummel, grunted from the living room and Kurt rolled his eyes. There was no use trying to talk to him when he was in this mood; it meant he had something to say that he wasn't sure how to say, but he'd come to Kurt when he was ready. Instead of attempting a conversation he stumbled downstairs to his basement bedroom and shrugged out of his damp coat. A calendar caught his eye and he grimaced. Two weeks and three days left until his seventeenth birthday.

The trouble with the Introspection was that it forever branded you. After a lot of pomp and ceremony, the youth would be sent to meditate in a dark room for the entire night. They were forbidden to speak during this time, and the idea was to look within and find who they were; what they would become. Kurt had always known precisely who and what he was, and though he never tried to hide it, he also hadn't publically announced it. As long as he didn't do that, he was protected to some extent from the prejudices of the world.

Kurt was gay.

His father knew; Kurt had told him last year, and Burt hadn't been surprised. "I've known since you were three," he'd said. Kurt couldn't believe how lucky he was to have such a supportive and understanding parent in his life.

But other than Burt, no one else knew for _sure_. Come Kurt's Introspection, _everyone_ would know.

Still, after that stupid ceremony, he would be given a lot more opportunities. Only those who'd performed the Introspection could join the army, for example, or run a business. The Introspection branded you, and it was your first official public appearance as YOU.

It was over dinner that night that Burt mustered the words he needed. Clearing his throat to get Kurt's attention, he began, "What I'm about to tell you isn't going to be easy on you, Kurt."

He waited patiently, but he was already uneasy.

"You know I've been seeing Carole," he continued and Kurt nodded slowly; Carole was the mother of one of the boys at school who had just had his Introspection a few days ago. Burt and Carole had been dating each other for months and Kurt was perfectly happy with that; Carole was kind and a good friend to Kurt, and Finn, her son, was alright. "Well… today, there was an announcement in the town square. A messenger came from the palace…" Burt huffed in annoyance, never one to beat about the bush like this. "They're conscripting, Kurt. For the army. One man from every household is required to go to war… and as you haven't had your Introspection yet…"

Kurt's eyes were wide and brimming with tears at once. "You're going to war."

Burt bowed his head solemnly. "You won't be alone. Carole will be here with you."

"W-what about Finn?" he stammered.

"He's the man of his house. He's also eligible."

Horror flooded the teen as he considered this; it was awful to think of his father going to war, but though he and Finn were not close, the very idea of someone mere weeks his senior going away – probably never to return – was repellent. "They can't ask you to go!" he snapped, "You're sick. You've just come home from the hospital – can't they make an exception?"

Burt hated to see his son so distressed. Kurt was the kindest and most obedient boy he knew, and he'd gone through enough in his short life already. Burt had been to war before, for a few years before Kurt was born. His leg hadn't been the same since then, and when Kurt's mother Elizabeth died when he was only nine years old… to have to make do alone now wasn't fair. "I'm sorry Kurt, but they don't make exceptions like that. They need every man they can get, and the law states that they can't take anyone who hasn't had their Introspection. Besides, I wouldn't want you to be in my place anyway. Don't you worry though, like I said, Carole will be here…"

"You won't come back."

He swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to defuse the tension. "Glad you have such faith in me Kurt."

His son glared, his beautiful eyes so like his mother's watery. "Dad, this isn't the time to joke – I'm _not_ a child and I'm not stupid… if you go, there's no way you'll come home."

Burt wanted to deny it, but his heart was heavy; he knew chances were slimmer than their chances of ruling the country. "I know but… I'm sorry. I don't want to go and leave you here Kurt… but I don't have a choice."

:-:-:-:

Kurt watched his father that night from the shadow of the doorway. He was trying on his old uniform, adjusting the cap and examining his old weapons. There was no fooling himself that Burt was up to par for another war. He'd likely be killed within the first few minutes of battle.

'_I can't let this happen,'_ he insisted, _'there must be some way… they're sending someone to die, with no hope of surviving! I don't understand. This isn't even our family's fight. Why should we fight for something we don't even care about?'_ His vision blurred again as he lay in his bed, the clock ticking away his last night with his father.

Unable to sleep, he scrambled to his feet and took in his appearance in the floor-length mirror against the wall. He was slim and youthful, true, but he was pretty tall as long as he wasn't compared to Finn. If he went to the registration tomorrow in his father's place, no one would question his age, right? He could convince them he was seventeen. He would be in less than three weeks anyway, he was hardly even breaking the law.

He'd never fit into his father's old military clothing, but he crept into the storage cupboard in any case and took the cap, setting it on his head. He also picked up the sheathed sword and strapped it about his waist. He had no idea how to use it, but even so, he felt he would survive longer than his father. His father, who had only just opened himself up to another woman after eight years, who was actually happy for the first time in so long. Kurt would do anything to ensure his father got to live out his life with Carole in happiness. They would have each other, in spite of their sons being gone. That would be enough.

All he needed now was his father's summit; the little scroll calling for the eldest able-bodied man to come to war for the Hummel family. This was on Burt's bedside table, but the man slept like a log, and it wasn't hard for Kurt to take this too.

His eyes were filling with tears again. He couldn't leave without saying goodbye… but a note would have to do. This written and left in place of the summit, Kurt made his way to the stable and took the only horse; a lean but elderly old stallion called Pavarotti. He sucked in a breath and looked back to the shabby house in the snow, then seeing the greying light of the sky, he nudged Pavarotti's sides and rushed for what he was sure would be his death.

Burt awoke and reached to tuck the summit into his coat before he said farewell to Kurt around mid-morning. Instead he found a slip of paper with his son's elegant script sprawling across it.

_Dad,  
>I love you too much to let this happen. I cannot watch you throw away your second chance at happiness, and I could never bear it if you died. I'm so sorry I've been forced to do this, but I'm not sorry I am doing it; you are my whole world, and I've never seen you happier than when you're with Carole… not since Mom died. I'm going to do <em>everything_ I can to make it through this so I can come home to you. I promise I'll fight hard for you, Dad, but if it has to be one of us… I'd so much rather it be me.  
>I love you so much. Tell Carole I love her too – I wish you a good life. Good bye, Dad.<br>- Kurt._

:-:-:-:

**A/N: **_I am sort of winging this… and sort of not. It's rated M for future chapters but… I've never written anything even borderline M before so please, don't be too harsh on me. If it isn't worth it, I'll change it back to T. Anyway, please review if you think this is worth continuing! Also, my first Glee fan fiction. Cheers! I also apologise for the really bad title…_

_Lexiconish_


End file.
